Train Kept a Rollin'
by sendintheclowns
Summary: Dean just knows Sam will continue to fight the good fight and be okay after the hellhounds come for him. That is until he gets a wakeup call. Set during S3, sometime after Fresh Blood.
1. Chapter 1

Train Kept a Rollin'

Summary: Dean just knows Sam will continue to fight the good fight and be okay after the hellhounds come for him. That is until he gets a wakeup call. Set during S3, sometime after Fresh Blood.

Sam flew down the two-lane highway, oblivious to his excessive speed. He would have berated Dean for going 80 mph in a 55 mph zone had his brother been the one behind the wheel. But Sam didn't have a clue that he was going that fast. He was preoccupied with his brother's situation. And attitude.

If they didn't find a way to break the Crossroad Demon's agreement with Dean within the next six months then his brother would be taking up permanent residency in Hell. Although if he was going to be accurate, there was no "they" working on a solution; Dean refused to contemplate the situation and had forbidden Sam to pursue anything which might void the agreement.

There had been a moment, right around the time Gordon had come gunning for Sam one last time, when he thought the brothers had come to some sort of understanding. A break-through of sorts. Those hopes were dashed when Dean quickly reverted back to his too cool for words routine.

Sam was at a loss. He not only didn't have any real leads but he was baffled by his brother's actions. Dean treated Sam as though they were business partners and Sam was the junior partner with little or no say. If Sam protested against one of Dean's ideas then his brother guilted him into going along by throwing in his face the fact he'd, the awesome older brother, had traded his life for Sam's. But if Sam brought up the deal, or the way Dean was in denial, his brother accused Sam of being too emotional. He just couldn't win.

And now Dean had thrown out the edict about Sam needing to become more independent so that he could carry on once Dean shuffled off this mortal coil. _Sam, you need to take over the weapons…you can start by getting more gun oil and solvent. And don't give me that look. This is for your own good. Someday I won't be around to do it for you. And bring back some burgers while you're out. I'm starving._

It was as if Dean had forgotten both brothers had received the same training growing up on how to care for weapons.

Or more to the point, that Sam would really be capable of continuing without Dean. That was what was so frustrating and depressing…that Dean thought no one would be affected when he was gone.

Sam absently noticed a bus full of kids as he weaved around it. They were decked out in football uniforms and cheerleading outfits as they alternately waved or flipped him off as he roared by. For a moment he was overcome with jealousy. Why should they be allowed a normal childhood? He and Dean had certainly been denied one.

The jealousy faded to despair. Dean was the one positive, the one person he could count on, and he'd soon be gone if Sam couldn't figure things out. After a lifetime of Dean saving Sam, it was time Sam returned the favor. Only he didn't know how.

A stoplight suddenly appeared ahead, green morphing into yellow and then red, as he bumped over railroad tracks and then braked to a stop. He didn't recognize his surroundings but that didn't really surprise him; he'd been locked in his own thoughts ever since Dean had asked, no ordered, him to run this errand.

The rural highway had abruptly ended and he could now see signs of civilized life with businesses and restaurants popping up along the intersecting roads. A steady stream of cars whizzed by as he sat there. He shifted impatiently and glanced at his watch; he was now stuck in commuter traffic, or what passed as such, as normal people raced home from their normal work to get home to their normal lives.

Sam would never know why but he picked that moment to look in the Impala's side mirror and noticed red lights flashing as the bus straddled the train tracks. The city planner had done a lousy job with this intersection if a stoplight could strand traffic on the tracks.

Red lights. He could hear a horn sounding in the distance. He craned his neck and saw a train rocketing down the tracks.

Toward the bus.

The bus that was sitting on top of the tracks.

Sam wheeled around in his seat and sought out the panicked eyes of the gray haired woman in the driver seat of the school bus. His brain kicked into gear, reviewing and discarding the bus's options. It couldn't move out of the path of the oncoming train by navigating to the left because cars had filtered in and were now sitting in that lane waiting for the light to change. The bus couldn't steer to the right because there was a steep incline complete with guardrail. The Impala blocked the bus's forward progress.

Sam was in the way.

The train was streaking toward the bus, horn blaring continuously, as sparks flew off the tracks; the train couldn't stop in time.

Sam did the math. One life versus a busload of kids.

His foot jammed down on the gas pedal and he shot out into the busy intersection, his own hand smashed the center of the steering wheel causing the horn to wail its distress.

He had a second to look in the rearview mirror and was relieved to see the bus jumping forward in his wake.

And then the front of the Impala was brutally smashed from the left followed closely by the right. His head cracked against the window.

His last thought was of the Impala, his brother's pride and joy. He'd done it again.

Dean was going to kill him.

And then the dark spots dancing in front of his eyes took control and he slumped over the steering wheel.

-0-

Dean was getting pissed. He'd called Sam's cell phone numerous times and his brother was ignoring him. Sam was probably stewing about taking orders from him but someone had to be in charge. And if Dean left it to Sam, they'd both be buried in obscure books, trying to find a way to void the deal which would result in Sam's death.

Once was enough. He refused to watch Sam die again.

And what his baby brother failed to realize was that life would go on when Dean's deal came due but there was a lot Sam needed to learn if he was going to survive. Stuff that Dean needed to show him.

It had started gradually. Dean had given Sam lessons on caring for the Impala. Then Dean had tried to instill all of his hard earned knowledge on con games in his little brother but Sam had balked. They'd now moved on to weapons maintenance.

Sam knew the basics but there was so much more to keeping things running smoothly. Especially when your life depended on those things.

Dean's stomach growled noisily and he patted it absently. Where was his damn food?

The cell phone, tossed on the bed in a fit of temper, began to ring. Dean stalked over and grabbed it. He was on the verge of growling at Sam when he noticed it was Bobby calling him. "Hey, Bobby. What can I do for you?"

Bobby Singer had turned out to be a godsend. He was a fountain of information and dropped whatever he was doing when the brothers needed him. Unlike John Winchester, who had dropped out of his life for long periods of time. That is until the very end when he'd returned only to give his life up so that Dean could live.

The Winchesters were definitely a dark, twisted family.

Silence met Dean's greeting. "Bobby?"

A soft sigh was his first response. Then Bobby began speaking in earnest. "Dean. Thank god you're okay."

Dean was baffled. He was pacing in his motel room, waiting for his dinner. Other than being outrageously hungry, he was fine. "What are you talking about?"

Bobby sighed again and it was getting on Dean's nerves. And then he was shaking his head, trying to follow the stream of words coming out of the older man. "I got a call from Sam's phone. He was broadsided going through an intersection. Something about a bus and a train and he saved lots of lives."

Dean wasn't following. He couldn't figure out why the older man in such a tizzy. If Sam had called Bobby then he must be okay. And then he wondered what the Impala had ever done to Sam. That was twice now the Impala had suffered with Sam behind the wheel. "Why'd he call you, Bobby? He scared to call me himself because of the Impala?"

Bobby was replying before the words were even out of Dean's mouth. "No, Sam didn't call me. I was listed as his emergency contact on his cell. They're taking him to St. Vincent's Hospital. I told them I was his uncle."

Dean was numb. The ache in his stomach moved to his chest. Sam was hurt. "I, ah, thanks Bobby. I'm heading over to the hospital now. I'll call you later."

Dean grabbed his jacket and wallet before snapping up his keys. The second set of keys to the Impala. Sam had been in a car accident. He'd been out on the road because Dean made him go to the gun shop.

And Bobby had been called instead of Dean. That one really hurt but he had only himself to blame. He'd made Sam change his ICE setting to Bobby. After all, Dean wasn't always going to be around to bail his brother out of trouble.

-0-

Dean hopped out of the taxi before it coasted to a stop and threw money at the driver. He sprinted into the ER waiting room and almost trampled two rug-rats who were playing on the floor. Muttering an apology he shot toward the desk. He was out of breath and couldn't calm down. "My cousin, Sam Winston, was in a car accident and they said they brought him here."

The harried admissions clerk glanced at Dean and consulted a list. Before she could say anything the phone on her desk began to bleat. She snatched it up and Dean impatiently drummed his fingers on her desk as he listened to her side of the conversation. "Of course...when is he due...uh huh...and who are you looking for? Just a moment. What's your name? Sir, I need a name, please."

It took Dean a moment to realize the clerk was speaking to him. He hesitated, unsure of what name to give, and then decided it didn't matter. His brother was hurt, he didn't know how badly, and he couldn't think straight. "It's Dean..."

The clerk cut him off with a wave of her hand and returned her attention to the phone conversation. "Yes, he's here. I'll tell him."

She quickly hung up the phone and turned her attention to Dean. "The ambulance with your cousin is arriving now. Please take a seat and the nurse will come get you after they finish the triage."

Dean ignored the clerk and bolted through a set of double doors; all ER's had the same basic floor plan so it shouldn't be difficult to find his brother. He ran straight down a hallway until he spotted another set of sliding glass doors. This had to be the ambulance bay. Dean forced himself to keep moving; if he looked like he belonged then the staff would be less likely to hassle him.

He moved into what looked like a heated garage. A man and a woman, both wearing scrubs, stood talking with their backs to him. They didn't even pause in their conversation as the sliding doors swished behind him. He moved closer so he could hear them more clearly. "The paramedics radioed ahead and said the victim is not only awake but really agitated. He keeps calling out the same name."

Dean wanted to interrupt and tell them the victim had a name but he let the comment die on his lips as the ambulance backing into the area distracted him. He was pushed back as the back doors opened and a team of staff poured into the area as the paramedics emerged from the ambulance.

Dean craned his neck to get a look at his brother but the area was crowded with people and his view was blocked. He listened as the voices babbled around him. "MVA. Grade 3 concussion. Pupils sluggish with disorientation and perseveration noted, rule out skull fracture. Possible spinal injury. Victim's left leg is externally rotated and appears shorter than the right one. His left posterior tibial and dorsalis pedis pulses are +2. His left leg is cool to touch with limited range of motion. Right leg is normal. Multiple contusions and lacerations."

The voices faded away as he got his first look at Sam as the stretcher was pulled out and its wheels were dropped down onto the concrete floor. His brother was strapped to a backboard with his neck in a cervical collar. IV's and wires poked out from beneath a warming blanket, which was draped loosely over his twitching form. Blood was smeared across his brother's already bruising face, an oxygen mask cupping his nose and mouth.

And then he heard his brother's weak, muffled voice calling Dean's name and his legs carried him forward, pushing past the milling bodies, until he was at Sam's side.

Dean wanted to reassure himself that Sam was alive and his fingers ached to touch Sam's face, the only skin exposed, but he was afraid he'd cause further damage. He contented himself with leaning over until his own face was inches from his brother's, staring into bloodshot, confused eyes. "Sammy, it's Dean. I'm right here."

Sam's face worked as he struggled to turn his immobilized head. He needed Sam to listen and cooperate otherwise his brother risked doing himself further damage. Dean took a calming breath and tried to pacify his injured brother. "Sam, you need to calm down. You're hurt and you need to let them help you."

His insistent voice finally reached Sam's ears and he visibly relaxed. In a small, tired voice he whispered, "Dean, I'm sorry about your car."

At his moment Dean didn't care about the car. Dean wanted to reassure his brother that everything was going to be okay, that he would take care of him, but Sam blinked his eyes sluggishly before his dark lashes dropped abruptly against his pale cheeks.

A voice bellowed next to Dean's ear. "Okay, people! Let's get him down to radiology for x-rays and a CT scan. We need to get a handle on the extent of his injuries."

The rest of the orders were lost on Dean as the stretcher bearing his little brother was briskly wheeled out of his sight.

Dean didn't know what to do with himself. Sam was seriously hurt and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it except wait.

-0-

A dark haired nurse cleared her throat to get Dean's attention. He hadn't heard her approach or noticed her until she was right in front of him. He must be getting rusty if he allowed a nurse to get the drop on him like that.

Dean felt dislocated from his body as the nurse explained she was taking him back to the waiting room. She didn't chastise him about being in the wrong area. She introduced herself as Faye and calmly took his arm and guided him back through the sliding glass doors and down the hallway.

As they walked by a nurse's station he noticed one of the paramedics who had treated Sam talking with a cute, young staff member. Time slowed down as Dean tried to process what he was hearing. "They're calling him a hero. They said if he hadn't blown through the red light into the middle of the intersection that the bus would have been smashed by the train. But, boy, was he messed up. I thought we were going to have to pry him out with the jaws-of-life but we finally got the passenger door open and slid him out that way."

Dean's legs locked in place. He could hear Faye asking him if he was okay but all of his attention was focused on the paramedic and what he said shook Dean to his core. "I thought he was a goner but he woke up in route to the hospital and it's a good thing he was strapped down to the backboard because he kept trying to wrestle his way free. He wouldn't calm down and he kept chanting the same name over and over. I was afraid this Dean guy had been thrown clear of the car during the accident with the way this guy was carrying on but witnesses said he was the only person in the car."

Dean was light headed as he listened to the pumped paramedic talk about the car accident that had resulted in Sam's injuries. It sounded as though his brother had jeopardized his life to save a busload of kids. Stupid kid.

Faye finally got him moving forward again. Dean was grateful when they made it to the waiting room. He was lightheaded and needed to get off his feet before he passed out. He allowed himself to collapse in a hard, plastic chair. After a moment a Styrofoam cup with dark liquid was thrust into his hand. He took a sip and made a face – coffee loaded with sugar. Just the way Sam liked it.

Dean didn't say anything. He set the coffee on the floor before letting his head sink into his hands as he tried to bring his breathing under control. Dean couldn't afford to fall apart; his brother was counting on him.

-0-

Dean pushed the door to Sam's room open and peaked inside, unsure of what he would find. It was a double room but there was only one bed occupied at the moment. A bed that held his very bruised and pale brother.

The wait had been interminable with only Dean's thoughts left to keep him company in the waiting room. He thought the staff had forgotten him, or worse, something had happened to Sam, but someone finally stopped and told him his brother was being settled in a room.

That someone had turned out to be Sam's doctor and he'd filled Dean on some of the particulars. As Dean eased into the room he took quick inventory of his brother who was laying flat on his back with white covers pulled up to his chest. He could see the evidence of the injuries the doctor had mentioned.

A white bandage was taped to the left side of Sam's forehead in deep contrast to the dark hair it peaked through. A shiny, purple bruise marred the pale skin under Sam's left eye and his right one, also heavily shadowed, didn't look much better. His bottom lip was painfully split. The cervical collar surrounded Sam's long neck, making his sibling appear much smaller than his 6'4" frame. But it was the pulley system Sam's left leg was rigged up to which made the greatest impression on Dean.

The covers were thrown back at the foot of the bed to expose Sam's left foot which was encased in a foam boot. A weight was attached to the boot and hooked to a cable; the doctor had explained this would pull the bone fragments into alignment to prevent further injury and reduce muscle spasms until the surgery could be performed.

It looked positively medieval but the doctor had gone to great lengths to assure Dean that this would minimize Sam's discomfort.

Dean dragged a chair over to the bed and dropped into it. A frown marred Sam's face and although his eyes were closed, Dean didn't think he was resting comfortably. That was another problem; the staff couldn't give Sam much in the way of painkillers until they knew for sure that he didn't have a serious head injury. The CAT scan hadn't revealed any bleeding and there didn't appear to be a skull fracture but Sam's pupils weren't reacting as they should so the doctor wanted to monitor him closely. If he didn't show any other signs of head trauma then the surgery to set the fracture would occur in the next couple of days. Until then it was a waiting game.

The fluorescent lighting in the room was harsh on his eyes and Dean squinted in an attempt to ward off a headache. He refused to dwell on it because he knew Sam's headache had to be astronomical what with the bruises that were blossoming on the left side of his head and crawling over his left cheek bone and down to his chin.

Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to hit Sam for pulling such a dangerous stunt or hug the kid. He settled for lightly grasping Sam's exposed hand, mindful not to tug on the IV line snaking from a machine into his brother's arm.

-0-

Sam tried to open his eyes. He succeeded in parting them enough to let some light seep in and he instantly regretted it as his head spun dizzily. He realized that it wasn't just his head that hurt. It was everything. If he concentrated he could narrow it down to the left side of his body.

His left temple throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

Every time he took a breath, pain spiked from the area around his eye, across his cheek bone, and then down to his chin.

Not to be outdone, his left shoulder and arm ached with steady intensity.

But it was his left leg that caused him the most concern. There was a pulling, stretching sensation that made him grit his teeth. He couldn't classify it as pain exactly. It was more of a penetrating pressure which had him squirming in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. The problem was he couldn't move.

Sam took a deep, calming breath which set his lungs on fire. He fought to lift his eyelids up again and was pleasantly surprised when they obeyed. He was flat on his back, staring at a ceiling. He tried to turn his head but his neck was held immobile. He wanted to struggle but he lacked the strength. Why was he being held down?

Sam's eyes skittered around the room but from his vantage point he couldn't see anything except the damn ceiling and a steel bar over his head. It reminded him of a trapeze but he was pretty certain he wasn't at the circus. Clowns hung out at the circus. He hated clowns.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye. He still couldn't generate enough torque to see to his right but a moan filled the air as he tried. It was a mournful, pained cry and Sam felt sorry for the poor, lost soul.

-0-

As much as Dean wanted his brother to wake up, he was grateful Sam was sleeping through what had to be hideous pain. And then he heard a soft, plaintive wail coming from the bed. "Sammy?"

Dean clambered to his feet, his muscles achy with disuse from sitting so long, and leaned over his brother to get a good look at him. Sam's bloodshot eyes were wide, jerking from side to side. And then Sam's eyes stilled as they made contact with Dean's.

Maybe it was a trick of the light but Sam looked panicked at Dean's appearance. All his life Dean had been charged with caring for Sam and he wasn't accustomed to creating agitation in his sibling. Instead his presence usually brought calm to a sick or injured Sam.

There was a sheen of moisture in Sam's eyes as he spoke. "Dean? Where's Dean?"

And then Sam's eyes locked on Dean's. "Dean, is that you? Please don't leave me. Everyone leaves me."

Sam's tone, resigned and broken, as much as the words were a kick to the gut. He needed to reach Sam, make him realize he was right there. "Shhh, it's okay, Sam. Everything's fine. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Something inside of Dean tore and fell away. He wouldn't be able to look after Sam when his time was up. And if anyone needed looking after, it was Sam.

TBC

A/N : I'd like to send out a great big Happy Birthday to Pinkphx1985…I know this isn't the story you had your heart set on but it does feature some bonding moments between the brothers so I hope you'll enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

Train Kept a Rollin'

Summary: Dean just knows Sam will continue to fight the good fight and be okay after the hellhounds come for him. That is until he gets a wakeup call. Set during S3, sometime after Fresh Blood.

The staff bustled in and out of the room all night and all day. Dean didn't know how a guy was supposed to rest with all of the activity. Although the analgesics and muscle relaxants they were feeding Sam through his IV seemed to finally be working a little.

Sam was still far too pale and bruised. The initial disorientation had passed to some degree as Sam realized his big brother was really in the room with him. His constant cries for Dean had diminished and he'd even begun to ask about his injuries before he drifted off to sleep.

It was hard seeing his usually vibrant brother stretched out on the bed, immobile and in pain. Sam didn't complain but Dean was adept at reading his face. Like right now, Sam's jaw was clenched and deep grooves bracketed the sides of his mouth. Dean reached forward and hit the call button.

A pretty young blond thing entered the room. "What can I get for you?"

Sam's eyes were closed and he appeared to be resting but Dean knew better. "He's in pain. Isn't there something else you can give him?"

The nurse pulled the blanket back from Sam's foot and touched the exposed skin above the boot before touching his toes. She'd touch the skin and then take her hand away, carefully observing the skin.

She pulled a stethoscope out of her pocket and asked Dean, "How has he seemed to you when he's awake? Is the disorientation still a problem?"

Sam roused himself to answer her. "I can't seem to keep my eyes open but at least my brain isn't so scrambled anymore."

Although Sam's answer was accurate, the act of speaking left him out of breath. That was something new and Dean didn't like it. The nurse, Claudia, pushed Sam's top aside and applied the stethoscope to his chest before listening intently. "Take a deep breath for me. Hold it. Good. Do you feel any pain in your chest?"

The question was delivered as if it was an after-thought but Dean's antenna was up.

Sam motioned to the left side of his chest. "Maybe a little, right here."

Claudia moved around the bed so that she was on Sam's right side. She gently touched his wrist while staring at the clock on the wall. The same clock Dean had stared at while waiting for Sam to wake up. She followed that up by checking the various tubes leading into and out of Sam's body. She grabbed the chart hanging at the end of the bed and withdrew a pen from her pocket, making notations. "I need to check in with the doctor and then I'll be back with something for your discomfort."

Dean's thoughts were racing as Claudia left the room. "Hey Sam, I need to stretch my legs for a minute. I'll be right back."

Sam tried to smile but it was strained and both brothers knew it. Dean slipped out of the room and darted after the nurse.

Claudia was standing at the nurse's station, reviewing a chart. "Can I ask you a question?"

The blond woman looked at Dean with distrust. Maybe she thought his question was the prelude to hitting on her, and he had to admit she was pretty much his type, but all of his focus was on Sam right now. When she arched an eyebrow at him, he took that as assent. "What's going on with Sam?"

The look of doubt on the young nurse's face was replaced with unease. "I just paged the doctor. We'll know more after he's briefed on Sam's status."

Dean tamped down on his temper. "What about Sam's status? I know something is wrong."

Claudia withered under his stare. "The muscle spasms in Sam's leg have increased so I'm checking to see if the doctor wants to increase the dosage of muscle relaxants."

Dean crossed his arms and counted silently to ten. Except he only made it to five and then he lost control of his mouth, blurting out, "Listen, lady. Sam is the most important person in my life. I need to know what's going on here. Don't sugarcoat it, just give it to me straight."

The nurse shook her head. "You really need to talk to the doctor."

And then the phone rang claiming Claudia's attention. Dean was left reeling. He knew something was wrong.

-0-

Dean entered the room and was dismayed all over again as he saw Sam. Bruised and broken, Sam lay there, suffering in silence. "How ya doing Sammy?"

Sam tried to smile but it turned into a grimace. "I'm good, Dean. Don't worry about me."

Dean remained standing where he knew his brother would be able to see him. "But it's my job to worry. Your job is to relax and get better."

Sam sighed before lowering his eyes.

Dean moved over to his chair and tried to get comfortable. He watched as Sam winced and frowned. Dean would feel better if his brother was more vocal about his pain. This lying there, passive and quiet, was really gnawing at Dean. Sam should be fighting, not succumbing to the situation.

Claudia bustled into the room and hooked another bag to Sam's IV. "This should help with the discomfort. I'll be back in fifteen minutes to check on you but push the call button if you need me before then."

Dean held his tongue as the blond nurse left the room. Discomfort was breaking in new shoes. Or having a hangnail that caught on everything. His little brother did not have discomfort; Sam was in deep pain. Even if he wouldn't say the words, Dean could read him like a well worn book.

Without asking Dean caught Sam's right hand between his own and lightly chafed at the cold skin. Sam's breath hitched and his hand tensed before he submitted to Dean's touch. Dean wished he could do more to ease his brother's pain.

The nurse kept her word and returned before the fifteen minutes were up. For the last ten, Sam had pretty much been out of it. "Hi, Sam. Are you feeling any better?"

Sleepy eyes blinked open. "Better."

Dean had to lean in to hear Sam's response. His voice was soft and reedy. It sounded nothing like his usually strong, competent brother. The brother who didn't let anything slow him down. The brother who thought rolling the Impala into a busy intersection was a good idea, risking his life, even if it did save some kids.

Claudia smiled as though nothing was wrong. "A neurologist will be stopping by later. If you're cleared, the orthopedic surgeon will perform an open reduction and internal fixation of your hip."

Dean was stunned. It didn't seem to him like Sam was strong enough to withstand surgery. But he wasn't a doctor and he didn't even play one on TV. He hated having to rely on someone else. Especially about something as important as Sam's health.

He was just going to have to suck it up and deal; he didn't have a choice.

-0-

Sam woke up from the surgery groggy, nauseous and disoriented but Dean was able to placate him. Just the sound of Dean's voice seemed to do the trick. So he talked about Sam saving the busload of kids. He talked about Sam abusing the Impala. He even talked about their dad. Slowly Sam's head cleared and he became more lucid.

After spending the requisite amount of time in recovery, Sam was transferred to the orthopedic unit. The nurse explained Sam would be monitored for complications such as hemorrhagic shock, neurovascular impairment, and fat embolism which were a risk in patients with long bone fractures. The doctor ordered heparin to prevent DVT and PE.

Sam had never been poked and prodded to this degree before in his life and he was sick of it. His drainage site was constantly checked, complete with on-going commentary about the color of the pus. His intake and output were monitored with obsessive thoroughness; he received a pat on the head when his catheter held a good amount of urine – which was disgusting – and when he didn't eat the lime jello, soggy mashed potatoes and mystery meat to the nurses' satisfaction, he was excoriated. The vampires came in like clock-work to steal viles of his blood and when he'd complained, Dean's only response had been to suck it up because that was the price heroes who saved busloads of children had to pay.

The worst part was the meds. They made him dizzy and sometimes caused double vision. The nurses clucked with concern but still made him get up and use the walker, extolling the virtues of ambulation. At least he was off the self-controlled analgesia pump. Self-controlled, that had been a crock. If he so much as frowned Dean leaned over and administered a dose.

Sam was sick of the hospital and wanted out.

"Look who's up! It's sleepy. No, make that dopey. That face right there? That would be grumpy. Better change that expression or your face will freeze that way." Dean laughed at his juvenile humor and Sam prayed his brother wouldn't move on to his R-Rated version of the Seven Dwarfs next.

Dean's attempts at levity were thinning and Sam worked hard to suppress his groan. Of course he was grumpy. He was stuck in the hospital at the mercy of a bunch of sadists, his brother included.

"When are we leaving?" Sam had asked this question daily since he'd woken up from his surgery and stopped puking. Four days ago.

Four days that he could have been looking for a way out of the damn deal.

The humor bled out of Dean's face and he crossed his arms. "Doc says he'll discharge you in the morning. I talked to Bobby and he said we can stay with him until you get back on your feet, no pun intended." The smirk resurfaced on his brother's face for a moment before he turned serious again, the skin pulling taut between his green eyes. "But you're going to have to listen to me, do what I say and take the damn meds."

Sam couldn't believe it. He was getting out of here. Finally. "Yeah, sure, whatever. When do we leave?"

One of Dean's natural toothy smiles appeared; not the practiced one he used on marks or chicks he was trying to score, it was the one that made him look years younger, like a kid. "Despite your best efforts, the Impala is road ready. There's still some cosmetic damage but it should get us to Bobby's. It's going to take pretty much the whole day to get there – we're going to have to stop so you can stretch those freakishly long limbs – but tomorrow by this time we'll be in Sioux Falls."

He wasn't looking forward to be cooped up in the car all day but getting to Bobby's and his impressive library was incentive enough. He'd take the damn meds everyone kept shoving on him, just until they got to South Dakota. Then he needed to have a clear head.

He could withstand Dean's mother hen routine another day. It drove him crazy but Sam didn't think he was strong enough to go back to the way things were before the train, when Dean was hell bent on getting Sam ready for life AD – After Dean.

-0-

Dean had almost worn out his welcome at Bobby's and they hadn't even been there for two hours. He was so keyed up from playing nursemaid for the last week that he couldn't settle down now that he had a spare moment to call his own.

Sam was upstairs in Bobby's room, sleeping. Good ole Uncle Bobby had graciously given up his room so Sam would have space to spread his large, healing body.

Bobby was at his desk, knee-deep in reading material for a future hunt. He'd insisted Dean go out for awhile, muttering something about Dean being as quiet as a herd of elephants.

Despite his misgivings – Sam was due for another round of meds in about an hour – he succumbed to Bobby's request. He didn't want Bobby to revoke his invitation to let them stay with him all because Dean couldn't settle down.

After setting the pills out for Sam and securing Bobby's promise that he'd give them to the recovering Winchester in an hour's time, Dean headed into town. He thought a beer and some pool were just what the doctor ordered.

Only once he was at Shooter's he couldn't settle into a rhythm and the beer tasted flat. When a hot girl started hitting on him and he couldn't work up any enthusiasm, he figured it was time to head back to Bobby's. Call him sentimental but he didn't like being away from Sam even though he knew his brother was on the mend.

Dean let himself into the house and found Bobby in the same position he had been in before he left, hunched over a book while taking notes in hand writing that would embarrass a doctor. "Hey, Bobby. Sammy behave for you?"

Bobby stopped marking up his legal pad and looked up at Dean. "Yep. I gave him the pills an hour after you left and then left him alone because he said he wanted to sleep. You should try it some time, it might mellow your disposition."

He aimed a crooked smile at Bobby. "Oh, you love me just the way I am. Tell me, did you watch Sammy swallow the pills down?"

Something was nagging at Dean. Sam never wanted to take the meds; he said they made him too loopy or too dizzy or too something. The kid always had an excuse.

The older man took his baseball cap off and scratched the thinning hair. "No, I didn't watch him. Didn't know I was supposed to."

Dean's anxiety unfurled and sank to this gut. After a day of riding in the car, Sam needed the muscle relaxants otherwise he'd be plagued with spasms.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Sam had taken the pills.

Dean took the stairs three at a time. With a little luck Sam would still be sleeping instead of in distress from over tired and abused muscles. He cursed as he saw a light spilling out from beneath the closed door where Sam was supposed to be resting.

Opening the door, his stomach clenched as he saw Sam sitting up in bed, his left hand massaging his left calf muscle while his right hand kneaded the left side of his neck. It didn't look natural, a man Sam's size contorted like a misshapen pretzel. And his sibling's face, a pale mask of agony, bore that out.

Next to the bed on the ratty, banged up nightstand stood the glass of water, one yellow pill and one blue pill keeping it company.

He sighed heavily. Dean hated being right sometimes but he sure knew his brother; damn idiot had decided he didn't need the meds. When would Sam learn that big brother knew best?

Dean snatched up the pills and water and rushed to Sam's side, sinking down next to his brother's repaired hip. "Here, muscle relaxant and pain pill. No argument, Sam, now is not the time to play tough guy."

Sam silently took the pills and swallowed them down noisily with some water. A trickle of liquid spilled from the corner of Sam's mouth, a sign that his usually neat freak brother was in extreme distress. Dean took the glass out of Sam's shaking hand and set it down on the nightstand before confronting Sam about his pain. "Where does it hurt the most?"

Dean didn't think Sam was going to answer, he remained silent for so long, and then he hitched a breath and answered. "My left calf muscle was on fire but I think I massaged it out. It's my neck and shoulder…they locked up on me."

And unspoken was that they hurt like a bitch. Dean put a hand on each of Sam's shoulders and began kneading them. Sam hissed out a small gasp but didn't pull away. Progress. "Come on, Sammy, just relax. Breathe through it. That's it."

It took a good five minutes of hard massaging that made Dean's hands ache but he could feel the tension unwind from Sam's shoulders in small increments.

He leaned forward and drew Sam closer until he leaned lightly against Dean's chest. Dean's left hand steadied Sam's right shoulder as his free hand ran down to the middle of Sam's back. The muscles were uncomfortably bunched there and Dean worked at loosening the knots he found.

Dean glanced at Sam's face and although still very pale, the lines that bespoke of intense pain had smoothed out a bit.

Sam was fiercely independent, had always been that way, and Dean took it as a measure of Sam's trust that he allowed Dean to help him here. Of course if Dean had really wanted to help his brother he would have stayed at Bobby's and given him the meds on time, making sure he swallowed them down. He knew muscle spasms were a probable outcome of their long day in the car and he should have guessed his equally hard headed brother would find an excuse not to take them.

Sam's breathing, fraught with hitches and gasps when he first entered the room, had smoothed out to a gentle, even tempo. Another sign that Sam's discomfort had abated.

Dean reached around his brother who was still sitting upright but leaning forward into his chest, and worked the tight lower back area. Even though Sam's hip had sustained the most damage, the accident had really done a number on his back, too. Sam's t-shirt had ridden up a little and Dean's fingers ghosted over the scar, proof that Cold Oaks hadn't just been some nightmare.

Dean couldn't contemplate the thought of losing his brother and he ordered his mind to concentrate on the array of Sam's spasming muscle groups. He was concentrating so hard on rubbing the kinks out of his sibling's distressed body that he almost missed the moment when Sam went from holding himself upright, albeit resting against Dean's chest, to slumping over Dean's shoulder.

Dean stilled his rubbing to catch Sam before he could topple over. He carefully pulled back while supporting Sam to get a good look at his brother.

Lips gently parted, eyelids sweeping over pale cheeks…there was no mistaking his brother was out for the count. The medicine had finally kicked in; Sam was sleeping in an upright position, oblivious to anything else.

Chuckling under his breath, Dean shifted Sam back into his arms. When Sam was a child he used to go, go, go until he passed out. Dean never knew where, or how, he would find him. Sitting on the floor, blocks half stacked around him, eyes closed. Sprawled on the couch, book overhead, snoring lightly. The kid had even fallen asleep standing out in the rain while on a hunt once.

Needing the contact, the knowledge, that Sam was still living and breathing, Dean resumed the back rub. It was an unorthodox position, with the way Sam's right arm and head were draped over Dean's left shoulder, but Dean made it work.

Dean absently stroked his hand down Sam's back as his mind wandered.

Sam had almost succeeded in nullifying the contract Dean had with the Crossroads Demon by dying first.

It was unimaginable. Untenable. Unforgiveable.

And his previous thoughts of Sam carrying on without Dean no longer seemed like an option. Sam needed him. And although there were people, good people, who cared about Sam, no one could take care of him as well as Dean. After all, Dean had a lifetime of experience in that task.

Dean's reverie was interrupted when Bobby knocked at the door. It should have been embarrassing, Sam all sprawled in Dean's arms while Dean petted him, but Dean found he didn't care. He was taking care of his brother. What could be more important than that?

Bobby cleared his voice. "He okay?"

Dean didn't turn his head, kept right on holding Sam in his arms, before he answered. "Muscle spasms. He'll be okay now. Hey, Bobby, I think we need your help."

Bobby trudged inside the room and stood near the head of the bed so he could meet Dean's eyes over the back of a slumbering Sam. "Shoot, boy. You name it."

Dean knew Bobby would do anything for them, had proven it time and time again, but this request was something special. He noticed the tension around Bobby's eyes and figured the old family friend probably thought he was going to make him promise to care for Sam when he was gone. It had certainly been on his mind to do so in the past. But that wasn't it. And he wasn't ready for any deathbed confessions either.

"I don't want to stand in your way anymore. I can't be involved, if I am Sam will die, but there has to be a way. Maybe ask Blondie for help. Sam said she talked to him about it before. I don't think she can be trusted but I can't…there has to be a way to salvage this."

Bobby's eyes crinkled at the corners and his tobacco stained teeth were exposed as a wide grin split his face. "It's about damn time."

A strong hand clasped his shoulder before he was left alone with his thoughts. And with his baby brother. Someone who was worth fighting for and who needed looking after like no other person Dean had ever met.

Sam needed him.

Finis

A/N 2: I started writing fic for the first time ever two years ago and each October, I like to stop and say thanks to those who have helped me along the way. My first mentors were Geminigrl11 who taught me to post and Faye Dartmouth who was not only my first beta but is now one of my best friends. Gidgetgal9 is stuck with me, too (thanks for the most excellent beta on this fic!). I've also been fortunate enough to have help on my stories from Annonie, Carocali, Floralia and BlueEyedDemonLiz. Each and every one of these writers has taught me something about writing, and being a friend…thank you!


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